Call It Innocence

Do you remember when a kiss
was the entire world?
The heat of shared breath,
the intoxication of an earlobe
and the fine hair on the slope of a neck;
a whispered scent so other and so right.
We knew the joyous inability
to register the reactions of strangers,
a sweet rebellion of two.
It wasn't indulgence
because we didn't know deprivation.
We claimed the right of sunshine on the face
and the rule of abundance without time.

Or at least until curfew.